Cheater, Cheater
by S.K.Evans
Summary: The TV is still going on about all the tragedies in the world, but he can only focus on his own. AU
1. PART I

**A/N:** I graduated from high school four days ago :D

This is going to be a two-shots. And I bet that part two is gonna be twice as long. sigh.

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**C H E A T E R , C H E A T E R**

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PART I

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It's always the same thing that happens as he gets out of bed. It starts with his usual mantra drilling itself into his head (_I'm not doing anything wrong_), followed by the disinterest, denial, and coldness. The guilt comes later.

He glances at the girl sprawled across the bed as he puts his pants on, knowing she's only faking it. He actually likes her; she's not some mindless slut. Quite the contrary. But he's not really sure why he feels attracted to her. She's got beauty, brains, personality, but the truth is he doesn't want a relationship with her.

He's glad she doesn't attempt to stop him as he exits the room, grabs his keys and wallet resting on the kitchen table, and storms out of the apartment. He doesn't bother to be quiet; she's awake after all.

The walk to the bus stop feels like an eternity because he's annoyed at his car for breaking down a week ago and at his friend for borrowing his bike for some kind of road trip. If her apartment wasn't so far from his own he would walk the distance, but as it is the walk would take him at least fifty minutes. It's late by now --past midnight. He makes the effort of speeding up since the last bus in this area will be there in five minutes. If he misses it, he's screwed.

He makes it right on time and hops in the vehicle. It's almost empty. There's a couple near the end --mid-forties-- the driver, and him. He loathes empty buses and crowds.

He takes a seat closer to the front than to the middle, knowing he'll be home soon enough. He reaches down to his pant pocket for his cell phone, only to discover that it's not there. He lets out a frustrated groan. He prays he left it at his apartment, not hers since he doesn't plan on returning for a while.

He gets down two stops after the couple. Sleepiness takes hold of his body as he makes his way up the stairs to his apartment, silently this time. The door creaks as he opens it, and the sound makes him wince. It seems much louder in the dark.

The first thing he looks for is his phone. He sighs in relief when he spots it on the coffee table. He decides he'll look at it later. He knows he'll sleep on the couch tonight. Dragging his feet he slowly enters the bedroom. His eyes automatically find her sleeping form. That's when the guilt kicks in.

Sometimes he feels nauseous, but not tonight. Tonight he's just drained, ready to fall asleep for a couple of centuries. He makes his way to the bed, reaches out to caress her cheek, thinks better of it; instead he brings the comforter up to her chin so she won't freeze.

When he comes out of the room he practically throws his body on the couch. He's reminded of his cell phone as he kicks off his shoes. He hates flipping it open and finding messages and missed calls from his girlfriend, wondering if he'll be home for dinner. He never quite knows what to say to her; he usually pretends he doesn't know.

This time there's a note sitting besides his phone. He squints at the paper, trying to read with weak light filtering through the blinds.

_Cloud, _

_There are some leftovers in the fridge. It's your favorite._

_Tifa_

His eyes involuntarily close, and he crumples the piece of paper before letting it fall to the ground. It's a shame he's not hungry. After this, he's not sure he can handle the cell phone. She probably didn't leave him any messages. It's true that recently she stopped calling him. He's not sure if he likes this any better.

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Cloud wakes up to a bright Saturday morning. There's a quilt half-covering him; he wants to smile at the attention but ends up grimacing. He doesn't immediately move, waiting to see if Tifa left. The only sound is his breathing.

"Great," he mumbles.

Most of the time he wishes he weren't so stupid and would gather some courage and talk to her. It's been a long, long time since they really talked. They're both busy with their jobs and friends. When he started working longer shifts to avoid her, she busied herself with more work to fill her time. One big vicious circle.

She's usually there in the mornings to eat breakfast with him even though they barely speak a word. To him it feels as though they're complete strangers. But, damn, he loves that woman, and he doesn't understand how it went downhill. He guesses he's too much of a coward to apologize and accept his mistakes. She's probably too afraid to confront him. Every time they attempt to discuss about serious matters they argue. He knows they're both tired of it.

He glances at the clock hanging on the wall and sits up straight when he sees it's over one in the afternoon. He slept that much? No wonder she's not here anymore.

Just as he's about to head for the bathroom his phone rings. Called ID tells him it's Teef, and he's taken by a sudden urge not to answer or destroy the annoying, noisy device. But he answers with a curt "Yeah?"

"Hey." He can hear the surprise.

He bites his lip. Fuck. He didn't mean to snap at her.

He clears his throat. His mouth opens and closes; he looks like a fish. All his ideas of conversation starter are merely polite or extremely distant. She's his girlfriend; words should naturally come to him.

"What's up?" He says lamely.

There's a distinct pause. He can tell he's not going to like this.

"My parents just invited us for dinner tonight."

He was right. Tifa's parents are nice people and agreeable to be around, but right now isn't the time for a family dinner. He's not certain he will be able to keep the happy couple façade all night.

"Yeah?" Damn it, why can't he be more articulate?

"Fancy restaurant, then we go at their house."

"What time?"

"Be ready at six. Try not to be late."

He feels as though he should take offense to that. Irritation rises up but he calms down. Her voice is so matter-of-fact he knows she's not reproachful; he's often late to dinners.

"Is there a special occasion?"

When she doesn't answer he knows he just said the wrong thing.

"It's my Dad's birthday next week, Cloud. He and Mom are leaving Tuesday to travel."

How can he have forgotten that? He's known Mr. Lockheart for years.

"Sorry, Teef. I just…" He passes a hand over his face and sighs. "Do I have to go buy a present?"

"Are you kidding me? No, you don't."

He's stunned when he hears the dial tone. He tosses his phone on the table, but he misses and it hits the carpeted floor. He doesn't pick it up.

While he takes his shower, changes clothes, eats some lunch, he ponders her reaction to his last comment. Surely it shouldn't be a big deal if he asks about buying a present? Realization hits him as he's doing the dishes. He, Tifa, and her mom put their money together to offer Mr. Lockheart his dream vacation. Now he feels stupid.

It's a long wait until she returns to change for the dinner. He's not bored enough to go down at the mechanics shop to work on his day off. He used to study pre-law but he dropped out after the first year when his mom died six years ago. He didn't want to study anymore. But he's happy with his job now; he knows he won't do it his whole life.

He changes into a white button-up shirt and black slacks. He slips a dark blue tie around his neck and tries to tie it correctly. Tifa normally does this for him. He does his best to comb his messy hair but it proves useless. It's five by now. He lets out a sigh. They used to do almost everything together; he doesn't have a clue how to entertain himself. He sits at the computer and checks his mail. He never really did like computers or technology in general. Neither does she. They keep one because it's useful, and rarely turn it on.

He puts on some music to destroy the oppressive silence that's taken over the room. Cloud doesn't consider himself a people person by definition, but he can't stand being alone all the time. The past couple of months were very lonely.

Perhaps he can write her an e-mail or a letter. He rolls up his sleeves to his elbow and begins to type.

_Teef,_

What to say, what to say… The simpler, the better.

_I'm sorry. I'm a jerk. I love you. _

He thinks he should hit send right now because he has no more inspiration. And because he believes that sometimes just saying sorry is better than nothing.

He adds his name at the end. He sends the message before he loses his nerve.

It's nearing six when Tifa enters the apartment in a hurry, making a dash for their bedroom. She hates being late.

Cloud silently watches her as she plugs the curling iron and sorts through her wardrobe. She doesn't have that much clothes, but she loves dresses. He smiles a little at the thought of her panicking over what to wear.

He's disappointed when she doesn't fuss and he can see that's she's hesitating. He decides to help.

"I really love the green one," he says quietly.

He notices her back tense, then relax. She pulls an emerald green cocktail dress out of the closet, whirling around to face him. She doesn't meet his eyes. But that's fine, he tells himself, because he does not dare to meet hers, too.

"This one?"

He nods. She nods. "Alright," she says softly.

She slips into the dress, then goes to fetch her heels. He loves how she doesn't take long to prepare herself and still look magnificent. Her hair and makeup are done swiftly but neatly, and fifteen minutes later they're heading for the restaurant. It's a ten minutes walk.

Cloud catches their reflection in a closed shop's window. They truly look good together. He's not that tall and she's the same height as him with her heels. She's a beauty and he's quite handsome, too. He's a blond with blues eyes; she's got dark brown --bordering on black-- hair and chocolate eyes. All that's missing is the happy, I'm-in-love expression on their gloomy faces.

He wonders if she still loves him.

They always eat at the same restaurant when they go out with Tifa's parents. Cloud likes the food they serve but he's starting to dislike the place. Pretending is not his forte, mainly because he hates it, and tonight is going to be heavy with pretence.

* * *


	2. PART II

**A/N:** I didn't know there was a song called Cheater, Cheater. This is not based on any song.

Anyway, I lied. Not a two-shots. Would have been, but I've been on a trip since the beginning of summer. But I should get access to a computer for the two following weeks so maybe this will get finished soon.

This part might not have the same feel as the other 'cause I had to write it without my original document (since it's on my computer at home and I'm very far from Canada; I'm at the airport actually).

Oh yeah, not checked for mistakes.

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**C H E A T E R , C H E A T E R**

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PART II

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Tifa's parents are already there when they enter the restaurant. They immediately get up from their seats to greet them warmly with hugs and kisses. Cloud tries his best to appear normal. It's the third time in five months they have dinner with the Lockhearts and he's always managed to fool them. This time should be no different.

They sit down; Cloud facing Mr Lockheart with Tifa beside him. He wonders if he should take her hand. Maybe later, he decides.

Conversation is mainly provided by Mrs Lockheart. Her husband asks Cloud how his job is going, and smiles mischievously while asking if he can get his car repaired for free. The waiter brings their plates and they all keep silent for a moment to eat. Cloud believes everything is going all right for now --until dessert.

He knew when Tifa told him they were eating with her parents that Mrs Lockheart might mention the subject of marriage. She had done it for the last year. When she puts down her empty glass and directs her smirk towards them, Cloud knows.

"Tifa, dear, you know I'm getting older and older."

Tifa gives her mother half-smile and pats her hand. "You're not that old, Ma."

Cloud grips the fabric of his pants tightly under the table. He hates this part.

"But I want to see my grand-children grow up."

He feels as if he's in a bad dream, a horrible nightmare. He and Tifa never really talked about marriage and kids back when they talked. They were happy as they were.

He can't stand Mrs Lockheart right now. He thinks he might be sick when she turns to him. He doesn't care if he acts with a complete lack of subtlety.

"If you'll excuse me."

He gets up so abruptly he hits the table with his legs. He's nervous. He's blowing up his cover. They'll know. He and Tifa are screwed.

But Mr Lockheart only gives him an indulgent smile, and Mrs Lockheart chuckles and says, "Men!"

Cloud doesn't calm down until he's hidden in a restroom stall. For some reason he wants a drink. A strong one. He's never really had cravings for alcohol.

Why does the question seem worse this time? She's been asking him to marry her daughter for a year now. It happened before when their relationship was rocky (he'll never say he's cheating) but he never reacted this way. As a matter of fact, he only had a reaction twice: today, and the first time Mrs Lockheart mentioned the words 'marriage' and 'kids' in the same sentence.

He hates marriage. One of his friends is married and spends his days complaining. Divorce only creates more trouble. But he likes kids. Except he doesn't have a frigging clue how to handle them. He's scared of kids.

Would he be a good father?

Not a great, 'best Dad in the WHOLE world' father. Just a good one.

Would he love his children? No matter what they were like?

Would he be fair?

Would he be there for them? For their mom?

Would he disappoint them?

Would he spend his life asking himself such questions?

Shut up, Cloud, shut up.

He groans. "_Fuck_…" He rakes his hands through his unruly hair.

He has to get out of the restroom some day.

He's about to sit up when his gaze is drawn to the ground. There's a torn up condom package lying about six inches from his foot. His heart freezes.

He stopped using protection with Tifa a long time ago, when she started to take birth control. What if something had happened or she had forgotten, and had gotten pregnant?

He stops to think for a moment then shakes his head in bewilderment. If it were the case she would have been showing for a while now. But slowly, another realization washes over him.

Maybe she _did _get pregnant, but had an abortion.

He's unable to stay put to think this over. He opens the stall door brusquely, almost hitting a man that is standing near.

Ignoring the other man's piercing eyes, Cloud begins pacing up and down the length of the room. It's small, and he only has to take four steps before he has to turn around.

What if, what if, what if?

There's a particular something that upsets him. The list of reasons for her having an abortion is long.

The Tifa he knows would never even give the idea of abortion a thought. It's a pity he doesn't know if that Tifa still exists.

It's a quirky habit but he wants to jot the reasons down. Cloud doesn't carry any paper or pen with him, though. He looks at the man who is still standing in front of a stall, and who is still staring quite openly at him.

"Do you have some paper on you?"

The man's hand immediately plunges into his pocket, as if giving Cloud what he wants will make him disappear. He has a pen in his breast pocket, which he takes out and hands, along with a crumpled receipt, to Cloud.

"What do you need them for?" The man asks. His voice is curiously deep for his frail appearance.

"Internal crisis," Cloud mutters.

He stands in front of the wall to write one the paper. The man is still there.

"What are you waiting for?" Cloud nods his head in direction of the stall while writing down his first reason (_She doesn't want any kids_), which he quickly crosses. She loves kid. She works with kids all day long.

_She never wanted my kids_. Possible. _She knows I'm cheating. _Also possible. _Health problems_. No, he would have known a long time ago.

He continues to note all the ideas that come to him. He doesn't even notice when the other man answers his question.

He ends up crossing most of the reasons, but there are still a lot of words not crossed. He doesn't even count them, although the logical side of his brain tells him there can be no more than six explanations.

Cloud sighs.

"OK, Daddy, I'm fine now."

He must be imagining things or hearing voices. He whirls around. There's a kid behind him. The other man bends down to the kid's level.

"Your tummy doesn't hurt anymore?"

The little guy shakes his head vigorously.

"That your kid?" Cloud is surprised at the hoarseness of his voice.

The man smiles. "Cute, eh?"

"Yeah. Thanks for the pen."

The man takes the ballpoint back without a word. Cloud rips the used receipt in two and throws it in the garbage can. He waits for the father and his son to leave before splashing water on his face. His shirt gets wet.

Without realizing it, he starts talking aloud.

"That can't be, it _can't_ be. She wouldn't do that. I fucking _know_ she wouldn't. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Maybe she did. She's probably angry. Majorly pissed off. But she wouldn't take it out on a baby. Maybe she's ashamed and that's why she won't talk to me. Damn, no, can't be."

Luckily, he's alone in the restroom.

He splashes some more water on his face.

"I don't think she did it. Yeah, I don't believe it. She's not like that. But fuck…"

He rubs the heel of his palm against his forehead. "Gotta make my mind."

He glances at his watch. He's been gone for a while. There are chances that Tifa is getting worried. His hand twitches; he balls it into a fist. The knuckles turn white.

He decides to play a little game he's always played with himself. If the first woman he sees on his right when he leaves the restroom has dark hair, he'll make the first step. Tonight. If not, he'll leave it to her.

He exits the room. Looks at his right. His heart soars, then falls. Her hair is black.

When he gets back at his table, Mr Lockheart has already paid for all of them.

"You should have waited, sir," Cloud says, not even bothering to sit down. He fights the urge to look at his girlfriend. He has the feeling he might blurt out something random, ridiculous, stupid, or embarrassing.

"Nonsense, Cloud." Cloud notices the furtive glance he gives his daughter. "What kept you for so long?"

"Ended up having to deal with an urgent phone call."

He knows they all saw through his lie.

Strangely, Mrs Lockheart doesn't say anything.

"I'm sorry to say but tonight I believe you'll have to head straight home."

Cloud frowns. It's tradition for Tifa's parents to invite them for tea or coffee after dinner. They never decline.

"Alright," he says suspiciously.

Mr Lockheart shifts a little. He gets up from his seat.

"Come outside with me, Cloud."

Oh, bloody hell.

Cloud glances over his shoulder as Mr Lockheart leads him out of the restaurant. Tifa's face is turned away from him. Her mother seems to be talking to thin air. But he knows she's listening. She's always listening.

Once outside, Mr Lockheart sighs heavily. He stares at the sky. Then at Cloud. Sky again.

Cloud is nervous. He remembers the you-hurt-my-daughter-I-kill-you talk from two years ago. He crosses his arms over his chest, feels it's too much of an arrogant pose. His fisted hands disappear in his pockets. He doesn't want Mr Lockheart to know they're shaking. He's awfully anxious these days.

He decides to lean against the brick wall. It's damp and cold.

Another sigh from Mr Lockheart. Cloud is almost irritated. The man turns to look at him.

"What's going on, son?"

Cloud blinks. He tries to keep his voice even.

"You mean with Tifa?"

"Among other things."

There is an awkward silence. Cloud counts in his head; it lasts forty-six seconds. He gives a shrug before answering. "I'm not sure." He knows Mr Lockheart is waiting for him to elaborate.

"She loves me. I love her. But we're not really talking." He feels lame as he says this.

"Since when?"

Too long.

"Nearly six months."

Mr Lockheart grunts.

"I should punch you, Cloud Strife."

Cloud silently agrees.

"But, sir, I swear, I want to fix it." He has a slight hesitation. "It's just so awkward I don't know where to start."

"Sometimes sorry is enough."

"Yeah…"

"I like you, Cloud. It's not always been like that, but you take care of her. I don't want you to stop." Pause. "Come on, I'll drive you two home."

Mr Lockheart goes back inside without another word.

There is a strange feeling blossoming in Cloud's stomach. He can't believe this is over, and how short it was. Too curt, too short, too simple. Mr Lockheart is still angry.

Cloud waits outside. He knows Mr Lockheart just went to fetch the remaining members of his family. He's probably busy filling them in. Or at least, filling in Mrs Lockheart. Cloud moves away from the wall to the window. He can see them. He watches as Mr Lockheart puts a hand on his daughter's shoulder.

Tifa gets up. She's headed for the door.

Cloud ducks so she won't see him, at least not immediately. He unconsciously hides himself in the shadows.

She doesn't come out until her parents do.

The moment Mrs Lockheart steps out of the building her eyes are locked on Cloud. He can tell she's waiting for him to mess up. Her arm is linked with Tifa's, whose stare is directed at the ground. But that's nothing new to him.

They all pile in the small vehicle. Fortunately, the ride does not last long.

Tifa doesn't wait for the car to come to a complete stop to reach across the seat and kiss her parents goodnight.

Cloud is about to open his mouth to thank them for dinner but Mr Lockheart raises his hand.

"Wait. I want to talk to you."

Cloud's shoulders slump. If this continues he might just snap at them that it's none of their business.

"Please be careful," says Mrs Lockheart.

Her husband doesn't add anything. Cloud chews the inside of his cheek. They're waiting for him to get out or answer. So he nods. He will try his best.

He doesn't watch the car turn around and leave. He climbs the stairs to his apartment, slowly, buying time. Pushing back any confrontation.

The door is unlocked. Tifa is standing in the living room, staring at him. She's already is her pajamas. He closes the door and sighs.

"What did they want?" Her voice is steady until it cracks on the last word.

He rubs his neck in discomfort.

"To warn me, I guess."

He walks to the bedroom, and when she doesn't follow him he sits down on the edge and buries his head in his hands. He's tired. He's angry, too. But he doesn't really know why. He doesn't move for a few minutes.

He can hear muffled steps in the other room. She must have gone to the bathroom to remove her makeup.

"This is fucking stupid, Tifa," he mumbles through his fingers. "What happened?"

* * *

**further rambling about my lack of updates (and possible more frequent updates):** I went to this crazy high school where even slackers and procrastinators like me were crumbling under piles of work. It's been absolutely exhausting since Christmas, which is why just about everything wasn't updated. But I'm now going to this college that is waaaayyy less severe than my high school. Which means (probably) more updates. So hurray.

**Thanks to:**

Janie, mom calling, elebelly, beaucoup riant, Stolen Butterfly, Sheiky, Marisa, Fairheartstrife, dreaming . sapphire, demonegg, cloudlover2989, Valentine'sNinja, Sidney Nguyen, & 3

**demonegg:** hi. :) I promise I will write to you. btw, I almost failed math at the end of the year lol. I don't know why it makes me laugh, but it does. Anyway.


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